


The Five Worst Ways to Seduce Howard Weinerman

by summerwines



Category: Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:17:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwines/pseuds/summerwines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he actually succeeds, his mouth still finds a way to make things difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Worst Ways to Seduce Howard Weinerman

Randy wonders if this is actually something he can do. He wonders if this is yet another art he can master.

_You wish, Cunningham_ , he can hear Howard tell him, even if he hasn’t actually said it. Howard’s voice in his head doesn’t convince Randy to quit. He’s the freakin’ ninja, after all. And, shit, if he can’t do this, then he’s a goddamn failure.

 

 

**001.**

Randy’s parents think their son is playing video games with his best friend in his room, when in fact, he’s actually in bed, trying to drown out the sound of Grave Puncher 7. He’s rutting, rubbing, and moaning against his best friend’s body. This is the first time he’s ever done this. It’s the first time he’s ever entertained the fact that he’s pretty fucking smitten by Howard Weinerman.

It started with a sudden kiss, and it ended up with a lot of awkward fumbling. He keeps on his shirt and his polka-doted boxers, while Howard is still fully clothed. “C’mon, Howie,” Randy says, against Howard’s sweaty neck. Randy bites him a little, sniffs him a little, licks him a little. He can tell Howard had bacon and eggs for breakfast, from the way he tastes and smells.

Howard’s eyes and mouth are shut tight. He’s making these little angry noises while Randy rubs the outline of his hard cock against Howard’s cargo shorts. “I want you so bad Howard,” Randy says. “Let’s just do it. C’mon. It’s gonna be awesome.

Randy kisses Howard’s ear. He licks Howard’s cheek. He bites Howard’s jaw. He presses a soft kiss onto Howard’s lips. “Please,” Randy says.

What Randy gets is a push and a shove. “No. No way, Cunningham. Nuh-uh.”

Howard fixes his hair and stands up, leaving Randy squatting on the bed.

“I’m leaving,” Howard says, not meeting Randy’s eyes.

He does leave. He walks out the door and he slams it shut. Randy is left frustrated, grumbling, horny. He’s so _fucking_ horny. _God, shit_. He’s all hot and bothered, clutching his own crotch, because he wants Howard so much. It’s probably gonna kill him.

 

 

**002.**

Randy thinks pouting like a puppy dog and widening his eyes like a deer in the headlights is going to get Howard to sleep with him.

It’s futile, for the most part.

 

 

**003.**

His big mouth isn’t exactly an undie-dropper either.

Howard’s the one that pushes him into the janitor’s closet. “You have got to stop acting like a baby,” he says, while he pulls down Randy’s zipper, slips in a hand to cup Randy’s balls.

He bites Randy’s collarbone, and Randy feels like an idiot, just standing there, blushing and staring at his best friend. His hands are stiff on his sides. His mouth is zipped up, clasped.

“Cunningham—What the juice?” Howard says, lifting his head, looking at him, hands gripping Randy’s arms. “I thought you wanted to do this?”

Randy gulps. He lets out a nervous laugh. “W—Well—“

“Well what? You’ve been moaning like a lost puppy for the past few days. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly changed your mind, man—“ Howard’s eyebrows furrow. He huffs. “You just caught me off guard the last time. It won’t happen again.”

Randy shakes his head. “Y—Yeah, Howard. I—Uh—Maybe—Maybe not in here? I mean—“

The light bulb falters over their heads. Randy sighs. He says, “I mean, this isn’t exactly how I pictured it.”

“Then how _did_ you picture it?”

“We’d be in bed, and it’d be, like, romantic and stuff, you know.”

Howard lowers his head. He lifts a hand to massage his temples. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Again, Howard shoves Randy aside, and he walks out the door, slams it shut.

Randy, again, is left just a tad bit horny, and a tad bit smitten.

 

 

**004.**

He comes home with a bloody nose, one day, because Bash just had to give Bucky an ultimate wedgie, and Bucky just had to turn into a face-punching monster. Randy puts on the ninja suit and it goes downhill from there. Apparently, the suit’s capabilities don’t extend to invincibility from mind-numbing bruises on the nose. Or, rather, Randy just hasn’t figured out how to hone that power, if it’s possible to hone at all.

It takes the whole afternoon to get Bucky back to human form. He beats the thing up a few times, and it resurges for all said times. Randy doesn’t have a clue what special item he should be smashing to get Bucky to calm down, so he’s stuck in a hopeless loop of useless slicing and dicing with his sword. Bucky manages several hits to Randy’s face, and yeah, it hurts like a bitch. Bucky’s got a mean right hook.

The key is with Bash, of course. The guy just had to apologize. Simple as that.

Randy doesn’t go home with Howard that day, because Howard’s already left. People are staring at him while he dashes through the sidewalk, alone, with a beat-up eye, a puffy cheek, and a bloody nose.

He comes home to a surprise.

His mother tells him, “Randy, dearie, Howard’s been waiting for you in your bedroom.”

Randy doesn’t meet her gaze. He avoids seeing her at all, because he’s not about to get a berating on his face. He rushes to his room as soon as she tells him Howard’s there. The guy’s probably playing a video game, or eating, or—

Sleeping—He’s sleeping. Howard is asleep on Randy’s bed.

Since he’s tired as hell and since this what he always does anyway, he lies down next to his best friend. Howard is turned to his side, so Randy decides to spoon him. He hooks his legs with Howard’s, and he buries his nose in Howard’s hair. Howard smells like shampoo, surprisingly. He doesn’t usually smell like shampoo. He usually smells like yesterday’s lunch.

Randy sleeps. He dreams about climbing a waterfall in the Nomicon’s surreal scenery. After that, he dreams about sex. _Oh, god, yes_. He dreams about running his hands down Howard’s legs. He dreams about Howard’s head moving down, _moving down down down_ , until, _fuck._

He’s shaken awake.

“Shit, control yourself, dude. You’ve got a fucking hard-on.”

Howard crawls away, moves to sit with his knees bent to his chest. His face is flustered, and his hands grip his knees.

Randy rubs his eyes. He groans, “Heyyy, Howie—How’s it going?”

He sits up, smiles with big teeth. Howard frowns.

“What is wrong with your face, dude?”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, sure, Cunningham. I love it.”

Randy smiles again, before he leans in for Howard’s lips.

They kiss, like how they did before. Randy holds Howard’s cheeks while he plants soft and lingering kisses on Howard’s mouth. Howard grabs the hem of Randy’s shirt. Randy is smiling the whole way through.

“Did that monster do something to your head?” Howard says, slipping two fingers into the sleeve of Randy’s t-shirt.

Randy kisses him some more, licks Howard’s lips. “ _Maybe_ ,” he says.

“Well, you better ask the Nomicon how you’re supposed to get rid of all those bruises, man, before—“ Randy kisses him. “Before your—“ He’s kissed again. “Before your mom sees you.”

“Let’s do it,” Randy says.

“Oh, God. This again?”

“Please, Howie?”

“You’re such a creep.”

“But I’m your creep.”

Howard slaps his hands onto his face. “What the—“ He’s laughing, hard. “Did you really just say that, dude?”

Randy frowns. “It’s called sweet talk, Howard.”

His laugh only grows louder. Howard has to hold his stomach. He’s shaking, chortling, “Seriously? Sweet talk? _Pfffft_.”

“ _Howaaaard_ ,” Randy whines.

“Cunningham, please. Your shit is killing me.” He laughs some more.

Randy thinks, _Well, way to ruin the mood, Howard_.

He wonders if he and Howard will ever get to do the do. He’s a creep, he knows. He shakes his head, rubs his face. He guesses he doesn’t need to do anything right now; he just has to find a way to get Howard to stop laughing.

 

 

**005.**

Randy knows better than to try anything ever again. If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen. He’s not gonna push for something that just isn’t meant to be.

Surprisingly, it’s this strategy that works.

Grave Puncher 7’s in the background yet again. They are naked. Buck-naked. There is an open condom packet and a bottle of lube spilled on the floor. For some reason, Howard brought these things over inside his backpack.

Randy is flat on his back as Howard licks his clavicle. Howard puts a hand on Randy’s mouth, and Randy drools on him.

Howard is groping around, trying to slip the condom onto Randy’s dick. Randy is humming, whimpering, _Yes, goddammit, yes_.

It’s given a few tugs, and then it’s given a light rub at the tip. Randy’s mouth quivers. To make matters worse, Howard’s own erection is jutting on Randy’s legs. He wants to give it attention, but Howard keeps pushing his hands away.

Once the hand is off his face, Randy says, “C’mere, Howie,” and Howard does as he’s told. He levels his face with Randy’s. They stare at each other. Randy puts a hand on Howard’s hair, ruffles it, smiles a little.

“I love you,” Randy says.

Howard blushes.

His head falls onto Randy’s neck.

 “Oh, God, Randy. Why did you have to say that?”

Randy kisses the back of Howard’s neck. “Because I wanted to, silly.”

“Your big mouth is gonna kill me someday, y’know,” Howard says. “It just doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“My mouth says sorry.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Howard turns so his lips are almost up against Randy’s ear. He blows. “I love you too, stupid.”

“Wow, you’ve gotten all romantic on me, Howie.” Randy meets Howard’s gaze, smiles. “I like it,” he says.

“Shut up.” He goes for Randy’s lips. He ruts so their dicks are pressed together.

Randy moans, “I think I’m gonna cum, Howard.”

“No, don’t. Not yet, dude.”

“But—Ah—Howard—“

The next things that happen are a blur in Randy’s head. He knows he’s being ridden. He knows there’s a large weight thumping down his slim body. Randy is moaning, and Howard is quiet, eyes and mouth squeezed shut. It’s hot, Randy knows. It’s hot, being wrapped around Howard’s skin.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to spill all over each other.

They cuddle, they fall asleep, and they wake up at the dead of the night.

“Howard,” Randy says. “Howard, hey—“

“Yeah, man?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No, but, yeah, I do.”

“You have to shut up about that, Cunningham. Or else we’re never having sex again.”

“But—But doesn’t it make you, like—Want to have _more_ sex when I say I love you?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Howard moves his head so he can nuzzle into Randy’s neck. “Just quit it, okay?”

Randy sighs. “I guess—Yeah, fine. Yeah.” He hugs Howard’s back. “I’ll quit it,” he adds.

Howard sleeps, again. Randy doesn’t. He holds Howard close, smells his hair, smells the familiar scent of gravy fries. Not shampoo, this time. He likes this better. It’s more familiar. It’s more _Howard_.

Randy hugs him tight, because he loves the guy so much. He thinks, _yeah, sure_ , Howard doesn’t want him to say all those things, but, _yeah, whatever,_ he’s probably going to anyway, even if it means he’s going to be deprived of a little something-something every now and then. In retrospect, he won’t really care.

(Well, he will. He totally will. _But I can control myself_ , he says, because he’s the freakin’ ninja, and if he can’t do that, then he’s goddamn failure _._ )

 

**fin.**


End file.
